fingers hovering over the red button of annihilation-not your granddaddy’s kinda war

arrogance pomp and circumstance

holding the holy wars in your hands

the capture of humanity wrapped

in a shroud of stars and stripes

because you bleed red white and blue

the domination of other nations

cultures, lives, dogma, knowledge

thrown like dice in a back alley shadow

the hustler knowing the tricks and the traps

but the lines of pitiful fools keeps growing

never stopping long enough to know

those who can’t don’t, won’t hope

it’s different for those who sing

open unafraid unhindered

belting out bottomless lyrics

when the saints come marching in

and all the trivia of amazing grace

reading words without comprehension

symbols written in sand at low tide

kill those at the wrong end of the rainbow

never seeing glitter and gold and hope

watching your child starve, shake, sick

too many flies to wipe from their faces

they can’t eat words or drink sentiment

peddling your freedom door to door

in the neighborhoods of popup houses

with no guts, no trademark, no idea

a beige population with picket fences

screaming words in combinations

stirring the emotions of bred nationalists

the children raised on lies and apple pies

baseball, hot dogs and jesus christ

stomping in unison, automatons chanting

“let freedom ring, democracy for all”

tired phrases, definition lost in translation

uncle sam sending birthday cards and love

draft numbers concocted, dropped in the hat

like bingo numbers in the old folks home

the very judicial sentiment in small print

a contract for open hunting season

on those born in the wrong place wrong time

it’s all about survival of the fittest, eugenics

romantic revolutions carried out by children

seven steps removed from humanity

the ritual beginning with the broken ego

the self shaved away with locks of hair

the initiation, indoctrination and validation

the ever present buzzing of the hive mind

one unit, one body, one hand murdering

setting thousands of babies on fire

the laundry list of philosophy and excuses

cannot neutralize the image of the three year old

girl wrapped around her mother’s knee

eyes watching as bullets hit heads

spraying brains on concrete and bricks

terrified, existing long enough to know

to feel the warmth of the mother’s blood

the hand once steady, now limp and loose

there is no justification, no moral rationale

when the mother screams in labor

the birth of a still born innocent monster

a wad of skinless organs, bones and pain

the baby who lives with no skull and 4 legs

the result of uranium plated death

radioactive, nuclear devices of submission

recycled and used as a fine china set

enemies bought and paid for with taxes

billions of dollars invested in a war

to kill an enemy who carries a gun

stamped made in the usa

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